Hungover
by Shelby Bean
Summary: Oliver had too much to drink and can't remember how he made it home last night. This is a little fluffy ficlet based on a very old joke. "What the hell did I do last night?" for my Secret Santa


Oliver woke up with a pained groan. He was nauseated, and the sunlight coming through the window made his head throb. Try as he may, he could not recall how he made it home, or into his bed, last night.

Yesterday he'd been feeling especially sorry for himself, and made the bad decision to break into the Verdant's stock room. He knew he could just apologize later and pay for whatever he'd drank. Or broken. What's one more thing to feel guilty for, right? Then a tiny flash of memory came back to him through the fog of alcohol; a mystery woman, and the undeniable memory of her hands on his body. Her name and face escaped him.

The next thought in his mind was Felicity. She'd already put up with so much, and he'd gone and done it again.

Oliver forced himself to open his eyes. This was not his room. Looking around, this was obviously a lady's bedroom. He racked his brain for any clues. How badly had he screwed up this time? His stomach rolled in protest as he swung his feet down and gingerly sat up. Finding he was wearing only his briefs, sadly did not surprise him.

It did surprise him when the door swung open and John Diggle walked in. Oliver tugged part of the bedsheet over himself and sat up a little taller. Diggle chuckled and shook his head. "We were starting to think you'd sleep all day."

"We?" Oliver peered curiously around his friend.

"This is Felicity's apartment," he reminded gently. "We practically had to carry you here last night. Don't you remember?" Diggle was obviously amused. Then he motioned to the bedside table. "You really ought to take those."

There was a large glass of water and a bottle of painkillers placed on a lace doily. Oliver tossed back a few of the pills, then chugged almost half the glass of water. "Actually no, I don't remember." He leaned in a little closer, and Diggle mirrored him. "Did I… was there a girl?"

Diggle laughed heartily at that, but Oliver was left feeling like he'd missed the joke. Diggle slapped him on the shoulder. "Get dressed, Romeo, and come join us for breakfast." He was still chuckling as he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Already feeling a little better, Oliver glanced around the room and noticed his clothes folded neatly and stacked on a chair. As he put them on, he could have sworn they'd been washed since he wore them yesterday.

He hesitantly made his way out into the apartment. The smell of bacon and coffee and maple syrup filled the air. He followed his nose out to the kitchen. Felicity had her back to him, but his eyes widened at the buffet she was cooking up. She was humming a little tune as she stirred up some scrambled eggs in a pan. There was already a tall stack of pancakes on the counter. Was that fresh squeezed orange juice? Oliver stood frozen in place, dumbstruck.

She turned and spotted him, and for a moment he braced himself. He could not bear to see that look of pain and betrayal on her face again, especially when it was his fault. She deserved better.

Felicity beamed when she saw him. "Morning!" She brought him a steaming mug of coffee. "Glad to see you up and around, sleepyhead. Hope you're hungry!" She rose up on her tiptoes and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. Then she turned and went back to the stove. Oliver hadn't budged. He stared after her, utterly bewildered, holding the coffee mug in both hands.

Diggle came over and gave him a look of concern. "Hey man, you feeling okay?"

"What the hell did I do last night?" Oliver asked softly.

That grin spread across Diggle's face again. "Like I said, we brought you back here, you were a mess. Felicity insisted you not sleep on the couch, but you'd spilled something nasty all over yourself." Diggle shook his head and wiped his eyes. He was obviously enjoying this.

Oliver scrunched up his face. "Why isn't she upset with me?"

"When she tried to help you out of your things, you…" Diggle had to stop and compose himself, he was practically giggling. "You told her 'get off me lady, I'm married' and pushed her away!"


End file.
